1988 Going 2020

Chapitre 1

23rd of December 2020

You sat straight in your bed as a loud noise wake you up.

Your heart started beating fast; you lived alone in your little apartment, no animals, so no reason such a loud noise would happen. You gulped and removed a lock of hair from across your face as you pricked up your ear. You couldn't say what made that noise, but it certainly came from the kitchen.

Some seconds passed, and you shook your head. No, it had certainly been in your dreams...

Fuck.

It was real now; you swore you just heard... metallic noises? You could really have heard someone swear right after on the other side of the door.

You gulped. What were you supposed to do?

You turned to your right to grab your phone and composed the police number, but didn't call it.

You got up, phone in your back and eyed your room, looking for something to defend yourself, but nothing suited. You swore slightly and headed to your door, but paused before opening it. You waited some seconds before putting your hand on the doorknob. What else could you do anyway?

You opened slowly and passed your head through the door. No noise. You glanced around; from where you were, you could see your living room and your kitchen. You frowned. Was your cupboard open-

"Fuck!"

You swore and closed the door as you avoided something literally thrown at you. A metallic noise that you guessed being a pan falling on the floor resounded.

Someone started yelling on the other side of your door in a high-pitched voice: "Who are you? What do you want?"

You blinked. Was that person serious?

You answered: "What the fuck are you saying? You're in my house and you ask me what I want from you?"

The guy – you guessed it was a guy – didn't say anything in response. Your heart was still beating fast and adrenaline was running down your body. "Listen, I don't have anything of great value here. Please, don't take my computer, there is everything in it. If you leave now, I promise I won't call the cops."

You waited for him to say something, but nothing happened. Did he leave? Your hand hadn't left the doorknob and you turned it slowly.

The door opened squeaking, and you stopped in your movement as soon as you saw the man in front of it.

The pan was on the ground and you eyed it, considering taking it fast if ever, but your gaze shifted back to him.

He was eyeing your living room, seeming lost, his gaze strangely fixed on your television. You eyed him; he had long ginger hair, tight leather pants, and a headband covering the half of his head. His was wearing a tank top, which was quite strange since you were in December.

You opened your door wide and cleared your throat. "Sir... Are you alright?"

Quite weird question to ask someone who burst in your house.

He seemed to come back to reality and looked at you. He opened his mouth and closed it right away, as if he couldn't find his words. You saw him lift his hand and scratch his temple; as the headband moved, you could see a scratch.

"Oh, you've been hurt?"

He frowned as if he wasn't aware of it and looked at his fingers, with dry blood on it. You decided it wasn't suitable right now to ask further questions, and something inside you prevented you to put him at your door.